Charm Attack
by Ella Diver Sophis
Summary: Titled from Leona Naess. Draco/Ginny (D/G). The original toxic boy gets out of his depth playing an evil game with his Slytherins compadres..
1. Default Chapter

When he thought about it, he knew that realistically, he had his best chance with Slytherins. Ironic.   
  
That you always want more.  
  
Anything to stick two fingers up at that stupid girl. Anything to make Jonquille Feloney drop her mask, for a moment, and to send her crashing down below even Crabbe & Goyle. For God's sake! Surely Slytherins were deliciously right and ambitious and cunning? The most cunning occupant of the house at that moment was clearly either him, or Bolster's mog.  
  
"Hurry UP," Jonquille sighed into his ear.  
  
He ignored her.  
  
"PICK," she added.  
  
He kept looking  
  
"DrAco - Love-"  
  
"That's Malfoy to you, Feloney," he replied dryly, without turning around.  
  
"Well for GOD's sake," she spat, the flirting past its facade, "pick-"  
  
"Ginny."  
  
Draco's words cut through the foursome and dropped in silence before their attentive, duckling eyes.   
  
Together, they jostled to the edge of the balcony, where five pairs of eyes rested on the cornflake girl.  
  
"She's a Weasley, though!-"  
  
"-That's the point, Goyle," Petula replied.  
  
"Bloody predictable, if you ask me," Jonquille murmured, still watching Ginny.  
  
"I didn't," Draco said. "Besides, it's bloody not. What do you think I am, children, a bloody script writer?"  
  
They were silent again, and embarrassed.  
  
"I picked her because of Riddle. Fools."  
  
"Is that it?," Crabbe interjected.  
  
"Good question." Draco's heirloom of a sneer blossomed. "no, it's not all. Yes, I admit, her ginger, bemused expressions are somewhat enchanting."   
  
They snickered.  
  
"And she was under a dark, dark spell around Tom you-know-who Riddle. But most importantly, she Adores Potter."  
  
"I don't see how you couldn't pick faster, then," Jonquille sniffed, and stalked off with Petula in tow.  
  
Draco looked down at her spicy head, tipped over school books, dilligently and Gryffindorishly making the best of herself.  
  
*It's enough to make one violently sick. Still, not here, eh?* Draco contemplated the forthcoming two weeks of the game, and found himself strangely.. uninterested. Usually, a quick wrangle with manipulation made him feel quite warm inside, but today; nothing.  
  
*Nevermind,* he consoled himself, as Crabbe & Goyle lolloped back to the common room, *this should be a bit different.*  
  
-----------------------------------------------  
  
Draco wandered in behind Ginny, and murmured into her cloudy Autumnal hair,  
  
"Evening, Weasley."  
  
Ginny jumped out of her skin, and spun around with wide eyes. She appeared to be considering him for a minute, 'til she turned back, pretending not to have heard anything.  
  
Draco smirked to himself while a Hufflepuff eyed him suspiciously.  
  
Later, at dinner, he looked over to the Gryffindor table and their eyes met. He was mildly surprised by the sparks emmenating from her warm hazel eyes, and felt drawn to her, as if she was a mysterious girl from his own house. Her dark eyelashes over her pale cheek, quickly flushing with the rose of ardour. Malfoy looked away, feeling the oddly new sense of success welling up in his fingers and toes. Ginny giggled to her friend.  
  
*In the bag,* he smirked to himself.  
  
"Is Malfoy giving you evils?," asked Beatrix Radiche through a mouthful of lettuce.  
  
"Erm, possibly," said Ginny, embarrassed.  
  
"You're going red!" Beatrix screeched.  
  
She was.  
  
"Beatrix, he's been acting weird-"   
  
She cut herself short.   
  
He'd been scowling at her like this all week, but it would be better if she didn't tell anyone; it might end up in unpresidented Weasley doom, for Ron if not for her. She wondered if Fred & George had finally managed to sneak him a Gnarley Barley - their latest experiment, a seemingly-ordinary barley sugar that screwed your face up like oak bark, painlessly; meaning, you had no idea until people ran from you screaming. It had gone down rather well with Percy - as well as something of that effect can go.  
  
"-all evening. When we were coming in-"  
  
She blushed further.  
  
"-I swear he whispered something to me.. Something like, 'We've an ink, Weasley'."  
  
"'We've an ink'?"  
  
The girls laughed.  
  
As they were leaving, Ginny shot him a parting glance.  
  
*Oh, she's playing along too?*  
  
Draco was pleased. And, all of a sudden, he felt his heart flutter. Surely not. 


	2. Angry Squeaks and a Crisis of Conscience

It was hellish, really, feeling like there was something totally weird going on that escaped explanation and sent the would swirling upside-down at the most uncalled-for moment. It was truly unnerving.  
  
She spent a lot of time around her friends - that way, Malfoy didn't stand a chance of getting close to er. True, he was a boy, and boys don't usually fight girls, but there are exception; someone with six brothers is perfectly aware of the rules, and someone like Malfoy is destined to break them.   
  
Coming back from the library was safe in the afternoons & early-evenings when there has been plenty of people around. Homework had been light, so Ginny left the library with plenty of time to spare. She walked through the rose garden with the heavy perfume swirling around her like a summer haze.  
  
It was so June, though. The sky was streaked with hot sunset, but it was still warm and light.  
  
Heading back in, Ginny looked over her shoulder at the starry purple twilight rising from the hills, and a streak of pale gold appeared against the dark tower walls on her right.  
  
"Malfoy!"  
  
*Idiot*, she cursed herself, and rolled her eyes as he drew closer to her.  
  
"Make it quick," she mumbled.  
  
Malfoy planted a kiss on her lips, then broke off.  
  
Both of the stood still, looking at the other blankly.  
  
"Well, ?"  
  
"Well, what?," Ginny spluttered, going red.  
  
He smirked.  
  
"Weasley!," he replied in mock surprise, "are you blushing?"  
  
"I'm waiting for you to Crucio me."  
  
A frown crossed his fair brow.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Hurry up or leave me alone," Ginny retorted crossly, her arms tightening around her books.  
  
Stunned, Draco stepped back, a smoothed his hair.  
  
Ginny turned on her heel and walked off as quickly as she could without running, feeling intensely aggravated by idiot-boys.  
  
It didn't take long to find Ron, who was dancing in the common room. Harry & Hermione were sitting on the sofa, watching and laughing.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
He froze, and paled.  
  
"Ginny!," he exclaimed, turning to face her, "I thought for a minute-"  
  
"What a SURPRISE! You thought! For a whole minute?" Her voice had stretched into an angry squeak, that could have been comical had you not seen the terrible look on her face.  
  
Ron was about to tell Ginny how much she sounded like their mother, Molly, before she interrupted him, but thought better of it, noticing that her face was entering the 'danger' shades of the Weasley Flush.  
  
"Let's not dilly-dally around any longer, hm? Have you had a nice week, RON?"  
  
Yes, he remarked further to himself, her nostrils were definitely flaring.  
  
"Er.. I s'pose so..-"  
  
"-Annoyed anyone, this week?"  
  
This seemed like a trick question. He looked helplessly over at Harry & Hermione, who were totally silent, wearing the embarrassed look people get when they walk in on a domestic. Ron was feeling quite worried, by now. He wasn't sure that Ginny was remembering to breathe.  
  
"Nuh; no, not as far as-"  
  
"DRACO MALFOY, Perhaps??!"  
  
"Ginny," he scoffed, "I think I'd know if I.."  
  
There was no use laughing about it. Ginny gave him a look at could wither a bubotuber.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
The colour was draining from her face. She looked.. strange.  
  
"I'm sure I'm sure. He thought the Bondersnatch joke was Seamus' idea.. Why? Are you ok, Gin?"  
  
She was now, indeed, quite blanched.  
  
"Ginny!"  
  
She blinked her eyes at Ron, as if she had only just woken up.  
  
"Are you ok?"  
  
She nodded, casting her eyes quickly downwards as she searched the carpet, then turned to leave the room, walking very, very slowly.  
  
Ron watched her leave, then shook his head at his two clueless friends. She was a bit young to be having one of her mother's funny turns..  
  
"Weirdo," he concluded, and continued his tap-dancing.  
  
The weird thing was, though, the more she thought about it, the worse it got.  
  
The kiss had been.. ok, weird. But exciting. Ginny could hardly bear the knot in her stomach, and felt worn down after looking over her shoulder all week.  
  
She had realised very quickly what was going on. The Slytherins were known for their quick, flirtation and explosive clinches, not to mention their dark secrets in the depths of the Potions cupboards. More incredible was the legend of the Slytherins' "competitions" in disgracing the more innocent and naive of Hogwarts' students, of which Draco Malfoy was the patron saint.  
  
Before she had considered it a fair speculation first giggled by a First Year Ravenclaws in seeing the saint walking the halls.. Now, thought, she admitted that maybe the rumours were true. And much as she hated to say it, perhaps he was fairly good-looking, if only in a distinctly evil way.  
  
The way he'd looked at her though, had been electric, and she was a fool to try and forget it. Malfoy was even harder to avoid, now she had real reason. That blonde hair streaked like lightning through the castle, and sneaked round corners, not to mention his presence at dinner that seemed to flood the hall and yet only catch Ginny's attention. She could almost feel it when he was there, without turning around. The boy had practically taken up residence in the dark Slytherin eyrie above the library.  
  
Ginny would play his game, and defeat him. She'd escape him. But how? It's not victory to miss out on something you want so badly. And badly was undoubtedly the word for it..  
  
Then for weeks: nothing.  
  
No stares, no glances, no watching, no waiting.  
  
*The Bet must be off,* Ginny thought to herself, and sank into a depression.  
  
She had not noticed how crestfallen Draco himself was. Neither had anyone, for that matter. It always helped to have such a cool veneer in times of trouble.  
  
Anyway, he could hardly explain. It wasn't that he was in love, bored, scared or busy; none of these oh-so-obvious answers. No, Draco was having what common man would call a 'crisis of conscience', but the expression was not in his vocabulary.  
  
Although he didn't know it, and could never express it, Draco knew that Ginny was no pup. The other girls were perfectly suited to such games; arrogant, vain and naive. They deserved to get kicked out out Fairyland - and Draco was the one to do it.  
  
You only needed one glance at Ginny to know, though, that she was not like the rest. She was not so self-absorbed as to miss the whole joke he was playing on her. He had been the stupid one, and now hell was to pay. He was feeling sorry for himself, and her. He was feeling mostly sorry for himself. All his fun had been spoiled by some inexplicable emotion, and now he could neither have a fling inside Slytherin House or out; he simply wasn't in the mood. He did, however, feel a tad sorry for the Weasley girl, who was clearly annoyed and confused by his game, the likes of which had probably never deflowered her pretty seashell ears before-  
  
There he went again! What was coming over him? She was plain, obviously, and yet every so often, he found himself spouting poetic rubbish about her bloody EARS!  
  
The tension was eating him, and he couldn't stand another moment of it. Something had to be done, and whether it was debate or debauchery, it couldn't wait long, or Malfoy was going to end up on the top floor of St. Mungo's, writing insane verse to Ginny's damned elbows or somesuch. 


End file.
